Confrontation
by Blu Rose
Summary: (B is BoilingWaterShipping (Siebold&Malva)) It had been a month since Team Flare's demise and they had yet to talk about what had happened. But he would make sure they would. They had to.


_Disclaimer: If I owned Pokémon, it wouldn't take until post-game to be shocked that a member of __**Team Flare**__ is part of the __**Elite Four**__! Sorry if I spoiled it…_

**X-X-X**

B is for **BoilingWaterShipping **_(Siebold & Malva)_

They sat there in his chambers, eating in silence. Just the two of them. Aside from the few words they exchanged at the beginning of the meal—_her_ favorite, by the way—they hadn't spoken to each other in minutes. Before, the silence was voluntary, and he liked it that way. Siebold preferred that those who ate his meals didn't speak so they could make note of every flavor to the very smallest hint of seasoning, like how an artist wants those who view his work to make note of every little thing. But now, comfortable silence was replaced by a suffocating, wordless mire that only occurred between the two of them, and had been occurring for over a month. And he wasn't sure who to blame for it: her, himself, or Team Flare.

It felt odd thinking that only a month ago, the world as they knew it may have been destroyed by a group who felt that the rest of the world was hopeless and only _they_ deserved to survive for the world to become _'beautiful'_. Their name was Team Flare, and surprisingly, their leader and creator was _not_ a man of ill repute, but man who was a well-known celebrity. Another surprise was learning that a member of Kalos's Elite Four, Malva, was a member of the group. Siebold wasn't sure how many knew that, but it was either a small few or everyone simply decided to sweep it under the rug. Malva was not only an Elite Four member, but a reporter on the Holocaster. If they learned she was working with a group that wanted to commit worldwide genocide, they certainly wouldn't have kept her…

But he's avoiding the issue that's been at hand for a month when he thinks of that. What upsets Siebold more than the other Elite Four members and their Champion letting Malva's misdeeds slide without so much as an angry word or a glare is the fact that he's done the same. He'd been hoping she would bring it up, but it would appear that she ignored it as much as the others. He could have spoken up by now. He _should_ have spoken up by now. He should have told the woman he had been going steady with for half a year how infuriated and angry he was at her. How willing she was to throw the world away. How willing she was to _kill_ people and Pokémon—people and Pokémon who may not have contributed to the world, but they did no harm towards it. _How she was willing to leave him behind to die in blissful ignorance._

Yes…he's certain that's what infuriated him the most. He'd been her beau for months and he never saw it. Even when her attire changed, he only attributed it to her changing her clothing, not joining a bunch of madmen. And when he learned about it and connected two and two together, he realized that she was willing to allow everyone in her life to die to enjoy _her_ vision of a beautiful world: her family, her friends, her co-workers, and even _him_. The man she dared to say she loved and whom she burned for. It made him wonder…was this relationship even real? Had she simply been toying with him? Was he a game to keep herself amused until he was no more but a memory? He had to confront her about it. He _had_ to!

The scent of her perfume at close vicinity made him realize that she had finished with her meal. She was now behind his chair, arms snaking around his shoulders and neck like a pair of Sevipers. "Wonderful as always, darling. But if you want desert, I'll be waiting in my quarters..."

Siebold could imagine her sultry expression as she released him. He heard the sound of the door closing and it snapped him out of her seductive hold. Another dinner gone, another chance to speak his mind and learn the truth wasted like a good meal. The blonde chef sat there with his hands clenching his knife and fork so tightly, they looked paler than usual. And then, in a sudden burst of anger, he found himself stabbing the knife into the table. He honestly wanted to blame Malva or Team Flare for this, but he could only blame himself. Blame himself for not seeing it sooner. Blame himself for wanting to keep up this sham of a relationship in case the truth was truly too much for him to handle. But at the same time, there was a part of him that refused blissful ignorance and refused to let her get away with this. Not with him. Not after all the words of love—or lies of love—she whispered to him when they were alone.

"Tomorrow." The blonde chef decided. "I will talk to her tomorrow." He would confront her about it. He _had_ to…for his peace of mind.


End file.
